ELBINA 2

Chapter 21

My back is soaked, my hair has fallen out of its ringlets in its wetness and splayed out onto my back and shoulders. Even with the jumper I found, the dampness of my top is giving me a chill.
I wasn't sure what they were doing any more, they still hadn't finished when I got out the shower.
I'd decided to have a look around, I went through my room but all I could find were some clothes which I immediately changed into.
Then I checked the two other rooms and that only produced more clothes and that seemed to be it.
It wasn't until I got to this room, the last on the right before the generator that I found anything of interest.
The minute I opened up the large closet doors, it revealed the large space behind it. There were a couple of boxes all stacked on top of each other and all neatly taped up with nothing written on any of them.
I sat myself down, crossed legged on the floor as I dropped one of them on the carpet in front of me.
My ankles enjoyed the feeling of the cushioned floor, the material encasing them int the floor when I shuffled on my butt till I was comfortable enough.
My hand grated the hair back, the dampness coating my fingertips but at least it was refreshing and I felt cleaner then I had in some time.
The tape made such a loud noise in the quiet room that it made me flinch when I pulled it off the box, my head instinctively turned partly to check the door but it was still shut and I still couldn't hear anything on the other side of it.
I don't know why I was nervous, but I was.
My hands reached inside and all I was met with were multiple DVD cases, all titled differently.
1st birthday.
12th birthday.
Miscellaneous.
I dropped each of them to the floor, the same cursive writing on each of the covers for the cases.
It's a weird feeling, knowing that this was my parents, that they'd touched this all those years ago. It felt like I was touching them the same right now, like I was holding their hand as I looked through the rest of the box.
And it was silly, and stupid. After what Fallen said, should I even want them holding my hand through this?
I know who'd I'd prefer to help me through this, but they were back at home. They'd probably make this experience easier, and they'd help. They'd help me even if it put them at risk... I don't need to question that, I know them. 
I gulp down the constriction in my throat, pulling out a photo album. It's sleek black covering feels good under the palm of my hand, soft and cool.
I drop it into my lap, flipping it open and flitting through it. Looking at photo after photo, rolling back even further onto my coccyx till it stings at me.
It's photos of Fallen, him as a baby smiling and crying. He's happy, childlike, obviously.
But the photos become less and less, the first few years seemed to be well documented and with images of my parents in between. They smile too, they all look happy, like a perfect little family.
But then it seems once he starts getting taller, his smile seems to fade. It becomes absent, if that makes sense? Professional? like he's a trained soldier and from what he told me, that's likely the case. How did this happen? How did those smiling people in the first few years become what they were in this photo?
I stare at it so hard, pulling it out from the clear plastic covering. My dad's holding me, like he doesn't even see me in his arms. Holding me in the crook of his elbow and staring off out of the window ahead of him. His head tilted just slightly with a tense jaw, and I feel the tension even now. I feel it through the photograph, tugging at my chest and pulling me in. I see Fallen in the back, reading, I can't tell what, but he's sat cross legged on the ground with his fingers clasped around the edges of the book pages.
I feel even more guilty. That I had June, I had a family all these years and he had no one. My hand clenches around the plastic cover, crinkling under my fingers till the photos within it are being crunched along with it.
It takes a second to snap out of it, thinking all of the years in solitude and just having all that time, just to think, think of everything that happened.
I worry about what happens after this for myself too, if there even is an after this. I'm not even sure I'll know what to do, cause I wasn't right before this and I don't want to imagine how bad I'd be after this.
I've seen too much, so has Lucas.
And even if we get out of this alive, who can help us?
Who can help us recover from this, how could I begin to explain the emotions rattling through me to June? What could she possibly say that would make any of this okay?
The thought only makes me slam shut the black leather book, cause I'm afraid there's nothing she can say, nothing that will help me feel better anyway.
Now that I've emptied the box, I pull it to the side again. It slides easy against the floor and I don't have to move much.
I pull out the next one but it's all the same stuff, the same faces and the same events that I don't remember.
It wasn't my life, none of it was.
Now that the boxes are gone, I can only stare at the large wardrobe in front of me. There's nothing on the shelf at the very top and nothing hooked up on the hanger rail. It was only the boxes, all stacked up before.
I suck my lip between my teeth, chewing on it in frustration and anger because I couldn't find anything.
Nothing.
My eyes followed the carpet, it was cut around the edge of the wall before it also cut into the closet.
I had to wedge it open, it had been stuck against the carpet on the ground since it couldn't close properly.
Who thought that was a good idea?
Sloppy workmanship if you ask me.
I ring out the ends of my hair again but only one or two drops get released, now that it's drying properly.
Sighing, I lean forward and get on my knees to grab the boxes.
Then my eye catches sight of it, it's tiny. A flick of the carpet in the corner.
Curled just slightly at the edge, that it comes away from the sides of the wardrobe and if I hadn't noticed the odd carpet layout, I probably wouldn't have thought anything of it. Probably wouldn't have tried to think why it was done that way.
I let the box go from my hand now. Sliding it to the side again so I can lean forward and grab at the edge of the carpet.
It's heavy, I have to use my other hand to help pull it up but it's not stuck to the walls or anything, it comes up easy from the floor.
By the time I've pulled the entire carpet back, kneeling on the top of it to keep it back, I see it.
A metal flooring that covers the entire of the floor within the closet.
And in the centre, a handle. 
I stare at it, sitting on my heels just to look at it.
I can grab at the handle, pulling it up and twisting it. The minute I lift it up, clunking into place till it rests on the furthest wall that whirring begins down in the hole. A ladder reaches down a few metres where flickering lights start to illuminate the bottom.
I don't waste any time, looking behind me to the door to see if the others are nearby, but they aren't. They're somewhere in the house where I still can't hear a word they're saying or if they're even still out there.
It doesn't take long to climb down, the closet only visible through the gap at the top when my feet make contact with the floor.
Which is when the cold down here hits me, it makes my teeth chatter and I shake involuntarily to try warm myself up. The entire room down here is concrete, light grey colourings for the entire of the room apart from the wooden beams that line the ceiling down here.
The beams curl from the walls to the ceiling, almost completely cutting the room into three sections. To my left there isn't much, not that there is much down here at all. But there's a pinboard, a couple of pins stuck in but nothing actually on it. The middle of the room in front of me has a small bookshelf but that's mostly empty too. The only thing really interesting is the computer sat upon the desk to the right of the room. I quickly run over, sitting down in the chair and sifting through the plugs to turn it on.
It sounds like an airplane taking off, whirring so loud I thought it could be heard from miles away.
Finally the screen comes on, the desktop home in view with just a simple blue background. I have to re-plug in all of the keyboards and mouse before I can use them, navigating through the different folders on the homescreen.
There are a lot of them but none of them hold anything, everything's been wiped. They aren't any that are locked or pass-coded either, they're just empty. The hope flitters out of my chest so quickly that when I sit back in my seat, I feel the tears embedded into the corner of my eye when I think about having nothing. Because if we have nothing to give them, we're stuck in this loop of running.
Who knows how long this could last, constantly hiding away and who knows if we'll even survive that long. I don't want to think about hiding away like Fallen for thirteen years, he's not even out of it now, after all those years, he's still in the same stupid loop.
This room is so bare it aggravates me, why is there nothing?
Why did they lead us here if there's fucking nothing?
Did they just want to mess with me? Give me some stupid false hope that maybe I'd be able to help, maybe I'd get us out of this, only to squash it under the palm of their hand... Even from the grave.
I wipe away some more tears from the corners of my eyes, wiping them on the sleeve of my jumper when I stare out ahead of me. My breaths come out heavy through the frustration, and I'm frustrated, I'm not sad. I'm not.
I'm mad.
I'm fed up of all of this.
My fist slams on the top of the desk before I know it, sparking pain into the palm and jolting my wrist. It felt good and I let out a long harsh breath when I grind my teeth in an angry groan. It's still too cold, too stale down here from all the years it's been hidden away. It's so stale that my head feels slightly light headed but when I'm about to drag myself out of the chair, my eye catches sight of the wooden pin board across the room from me.
There's something edged into it, deep harsh and jagged lines that make the singular letter in front of me. Darkened lines that are shadowed away from the light but it makes the letter just visible to me from here and my eyes narrow in realisation.
My hands still and grip onto the chair handles, except I use it to push myself up quickly so I can reach the board as quick as possible. There still isn't anything to note close up to it, only four pins stuck in at slightly off angles and you can barely see the etching of the letter from here.
But when I trace my fingers over the top of it, I can feel the lines clearly like I'm feeling for the letter with the pads of my fingers. One vertical, three horizontal.
E
The juts are so deep that when I look closer they almost reach the very back of the board, probably only the one small layer stopping it from reaching the wall behind it.
I quickly pull the board off the wall so I can check the wall behind but there's nothing. Of course there's nothing. Why did I expect anything different?
I'm met with the cold grey concrete wall, not a single indent or hook or key or anything. I swipe a hand over it just in case, but it doesn't make a difference, there still isn't anything to help.
I drop the board to the ground, not caring enough to replace it on the wall anymore. I'm thoroughly fed up, all these stupid and ridiculous clues that lead to nothing and nothing.
They're messing with me.
Maybe there isn't anything, maybe they're messing with all of us and there isn't anything to find.
We're all running around like headless chickens for a game of theirs, all trying not to be killed just for nothing.
Pointless and unnecessary deaths for the sake of a game.
My back hits the wall and I tilt my head back, tapping it against the cold metal trying to get rid of some of these thoughts.
Trying to focus on the dull thud of pain that edges along the back of my skull, tapering down into the nape of my neck till I have to reach a palm up and massage away the ache.
I hear a distant shout of my name, my eyes flicker upwards, along the line of the beam and to the ladder I came down from. I sigh in disappointment, I thought I'd found something, something we could use to help us.
When I trail my eyes back down, they inadvertently linger on the beam above me and that's when they catch sight of the symbol.
Such a familiar symbol.
Something I hadn't seen in such a long time now, since Quinn, since he took it.
"Ella!" I switch my gaze quickly to the ladder again and I swipe my tongue over my lips again when they dry instantly.
I can hear him enter the room now, the footsteps evident and I run across the room to grab the chair at the desk. It grates along the floor when I drag it over and settle it beneath the beam.
When I jump up onto it, I reach up and feel the beam, surprised when it isn't actually wood. It's made to look like wood but it's actually metal and so the ridges that I can feel with my fingers are hidden with the design that you wouldn't have thought anything of it. Unless of course; if you knew the symbol.
A symbol I'd worn around my neck for so many years, a symbol I'd grasped into the palm of my hand time and time again.
I remembered every carving of that pendent, every line and every pattern. So when I trace my fingers over the faint marking, I know it's meant for me...
It clicks ever so slightly under my thumb, my smile widens when I can see it compress slightly. I cover the perfect circular pattern with my thumb and press down till it clicks loudly, the minute I release it, it pops out.
Creating a handle that I can use to edge it open, a small cove in the centre of the beam now visible without the front hiding it away from sight.
"Elbina! Are you down there?" I don't say anything in response because I'm staring at the contents of it.
I can hear their footsteps urgently climbing down the ladder but I'm reaching up and grabbing it from the cove.
I have it in the palm of my hand when I flick my head to Fallen and Lucas, panting at the bottom of the ladder, red faced and alert before they see me.
They're both still when they see what I have in my hand, still standing on the chair below the beam and I switch my eyes between them and the small black box.
"I found something." It sounds stupid to say and I say it with a kink to my lips, scewed into an odd smile I'm sure.
I couldn't think of what else to say and neither could they because they only looked at it in my hands.
All black and sleek, an easy fit in the cove before but now it seems like it weighed a tonne. Pulling me down so when I step off the chair it feels like I'm carrying huge volumes of lead in my hands, but it's light.
It feels monumental and I grin at it even more.
A hard drive... And it better have something to say after all of this.